This past weekend it was Thanksgiving here in Canada, and like many other families, mine overdosed on turkey, stuffing, and Aunt Betty’s Bathtub Brew. We also participated in the usual tradition of going ‘round the dinner table and giving thanks for all our blessings … which got me thinking:
Sure, its very de rigeur to say you’re thankful for your children, spouse and all that jazz, but what would happen if there was an Option B? Specifically, an Option B for parents?
If we’re all being honest, it’d probably look something like this:
Oh, the sweet, sweet sound of an anaesthetist's knock on your labour-room door.
While heretofore the very mention of having a needle inserted into your (or your wife’s) spine would’ve sent you into heaving convulsions of ickiness, the actual process of labour has the magical quality of forcing you to see what a pussy you were in the past. Believe me, by the time you’re in the position of actually requesting an epidural you’d draw the damned bulls eye yourself and/or shove the needle into your own eye if it sped the drug absorption along.
Even if you didn’t take an epidural, admit it: somewhere in the back of your mind you found solace in the fact that you could always, theoretically, have one if need be (of course, its always those “need be” times when the labour-room nurse speaks those most terrifying of words: “I'm sorry, but the anaesthetist was just called into an emergency c-section. You’re going to have to deliver this baby without an epidural”. At this point standard protocol is to scream “Fuck you!”, cry, and then shit on the table from fear. And that’s just the dads … Hey-yo!).
Alright, this may be a contentious item to list as (a) not everyone vaxes their kids, and (b) not all kids respond to shots the same way …. but I’m gonna do it anyways. Why? Because if you’re lucky enough to have a child who responds favourably to immunizations, then these scheduled pain-inflictions can be like an Angel Of Mercy … for you.
And of course by “favourably” I mean “sleeps like the dead afterwards”. Can I get a woot-woot for finally getting caught up on two seasons worth of The Bachelor?
Love ‘em or hate ‘em, immunizations also leave you guilt-free on another important thing to be thankful for:
3. Baby Tylenol/Advil
And don’t even think about trying to lie your way out of this one.
We’ve all been there: the kid’s been a wreck all day, your nerves are shot, and that fifth of whiskey has recently turned into an eighth. Maybe its teething? Maybe she’s sick? Maybe he’s tired? you ask yourself over and over again.
Well, maybe its time to let ‘ol Dr. Advil do his work, and help both of you get some sleep for a change. And how they get to the actual point of sleeping … is up to you and your conscience.
‘Cause the best-behaved baby is a sleeping baby, I always say.
4. The Diaper Genie
Sure, you’d like to think your shit don’t stink but guess what, Buck-O … it does, and your kid’s smells 100 times worse. Only ‘til you’re elbow-deep in baby feces (recently started on solids, natch) can you truly appreciate the power of The Pail That Stores Poo-Fumes. And at that moment, you will drop to your knees and you will thank the very heavens above for the existence of that elegant white cylinder tucked away in the corner of your nursery.
5. The Illicit “Thing”
This varies from family to family but we all have it; that one Big No-No you’re not supposed to rely on but damn it, it works so well.
This Illicit “Thing” can be object or act: a blankie at 8 years old, frequent soother useage, rocking to sleep, tv watching, a bottle in the crib. Whatever it is, it usually gives an immediate dosage of Shut The Hell Up, followed by five minutes of Ahhhh, I Can Finally Pee In Peace.
Which brings me to our final blessing:
6. Locks on Doors And if I need to explain this one to you, you are not truly a parent. So suck it.
From my home to yours,
*All joking aside, I truly am thankful for my children, husband, and family. And door locks*